


The One with Tuuri, the Cat-Tank, the Swan and the Typewriter

by Elleth



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Crack, Gen, Inappropriate Humor, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 17:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12562404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: Tuuri has an... inspired... idea to get out of Tuonela.





	The One with Tuuri, the Cat-Tank, the Swan and the Typewriter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/gifts).



> My anonymity probably is a moot point, but I hope you enjoy this regardless. The idea just wouldn't leave me alone. ^^; ♥
> 
> For anyone not Kiraly, the fic is based on [this piece of art](http://worldsentwined.tumblr.com/post/166763562234/good-afternoon-maam-can-i-interest-a-fine-swan).

Tuuri sat up with a start, and promptly banged her head on the sheet of ice above her bed. 

She pulled the dream she'd had back into awareness; being dead made that much easier. Whoever had claimed that sleeping in Tuonela was restful and dreamless hadn't known the first thing about it. In all likelihood, they'd never been dead. _Good for them_ , Tuuri thought. 

She'd not be dead much longer if she could help it. 

Perhaps this plan might get her somewhere, and if it did, she'd have to think of something nice to do for her boss at the Keuruu garage. She'd dreamt of her work there, a late, light summer evening they'd spent stretched out on the hood of one of the military vehicles, her boss reclining against the windshield next to her, and telling stories from the Old World. Laila loved the Old World and anything about their vehicles, mechanics and repairs, and was telling Tuuri of an ingenious system they'd developed: Used cars were sold and re-sold all over again, usually by sleazy people who could make you do anything, and buy anything - any car, no matter how broken, even if you didn't want it. 

Laila had said, jokingly, that it was down to the power of their reportedly terrible clothing that would just make people want to get away from them as quickly as possible, or maybe warped their minds into unquestioning obedience by the sheer violation of human decency and taste.

"I want something like that," Tuuri had said, and Laila had laughed, wiping a strand of grey-shot black hair out of her face. "Not to sell cars, but…" 

"Why? Onni?" 

Tuuri had managed a grin and half a nod. "I applied to university in Saimaa, and in Mora and Iceland, and they'd _all_ take me, but he won't sign the papers!" She kicked her heel against the banged-up hood of the jeep. "If I could make him do that… he couldn't keep me here." 

The next day, Laila had presented Tuuri with a drawing - Tuuri in hideous clothing - some sort of coat in olive green, checkered in pink and orange, a fake mustache and a thick, fake, bulbous nose under a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She was clutching an ugly, brown briefcase. 

"May I interest you in one of our fine cars, sir?" Laila said, pinching her nose shut. "Just sign the papers here, here, here… and here, and it's as good as yours." 

"It's _terrible_ ," Tuuri said, once she'd gotten over the first shock, and started giggling. "That's not how clothes look - or how contracts work! I've had to do a few legal documents for the Skalds!" 

Laila chortled. "Well, that's the _point_! It may not get you out of Keuruu, but I hear that's what they wore, or something like it. And how they sold their dodgy stuff." Laila grinned at her. "And I'll talk to Onni for you - no promises to get you out of here, and don't you dare try slip him the papers thinking he won't notice if it doesn't work - but keep your head up, okay? It's only a few more years until you're of age, then you won't need the permission of a guardian to go anywhere, or do anything." 

It had made some things easier in the following days. Tuuri was still laughing at the memory when she pushed the cover of ice aside, and climbed from her bed, but she stopped short when her reflection in the water rippled in and out of focus. 

Olive green, pink, orange. 

She didn't waste more than a moment gaping at her reflection. That solved _that_ problem, at least. She wouldn't have known where to find clothing other than what she'd come wearing, her expedition uniform - but perhaps, she thought, it was because she wasn't actually alive, so anything she could imagine being, she could _be_. She'd not be the first person to shapeshift to try and escape this place. 

Now she just needed… 

On a rock island not far away sat the cat-tank like it was waiting for her. Smoke rose from under the hood in a thin tendril, but if _that_ was there… Tuuri shook her head. 

She didn't think she'd thought it into being, and last she knew, cars didn't go to Tuonela. 

Perhaps it meant that someone was looking out for her after all. She wished for a second that that could have happened sooner - she hadn't wanted to go to Tuonela at all, and her words to Onni had been hollow comfort to both of them, but she wasn't going to question good things coming to her, either. 

The Swan was nowhere in sight. Tuuri made for the tank at a run, slipping on the ice a little in her haste, and found it much like she'd left it, the typewriter and everything. She set to work with a clatter of keys. 

* 

"Swaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!!" 

The call bounced among the rocky islands and rang out far into the nothingness of Tuonela. Tuuri paced back and forth alongside the tank, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted again. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity the Swan winged out of the sky. Birds tended not to have facial expressions, as far as Tuuri knew, but she could have sworn that the Swan of Tuonela looked annoyed, if not downright exasperated. She alit on the water with a splash, and waddled onto the rock island.

"Someone ruffle your feathers, ma'am?" Tuuri said, trying to keep her voice both deeper than usual, and the kind of sleazily nasal that Laila had managed in her impersonation back then. If all the price for getting out of Tuonela was going to be a sore throat, she'd count herself lucky.

"None of your business!" the Swan hissed, and suspiciously cocked her head at Tuuri. "You should be asleep - whoever you are. I don't remember preparing you a spot." She stretched her neck, her beak almost in Tuuri's face, almost brushing the bristly fake mustache. 

"Ah, I - I've been dead a couple of years, probably… end of the world and all that mess, ma'am. Can't expect you to remember everything." Tuuri stretched and yawned, and hoped it looked convincingly like someone who'd been asleep a long time. The Swan withdrew and hissed again, low and with a roll of her eyes. So birds _could_ have facial expressions, Tuuri amended her former impression. 

"Aaanyway! Must have been my calling that woke me up, because I couldn't help but notice this beauty here." 

Tuuri carefully patted the cat-tank's metal plating and hoped that nothing would fall off and ruin her plan. She avoided leaning on the side mirror, for all the nonchalance that'd lend her behaviour. "You see, I used to be a car… seller… person… when I was alive, and this one's as rare and precious as they come!" 

"Is it," said the Swan. "What use do I have for a car? Why is it here?" 

"Well," said Tuuri, thinking frantically. "Because a fine Swan like yourself should travel in style! Last I remember, the Birds' Path isn't a small distance, and after such a long time on the job you might want to rest your wings…?" 

The Swan eyed her, unblinking. Could birds blink? If so, it meant the Swan was staring at her, and the conversation was starting to feel like a bad idea. She clutched the rolled-up papers in her hands a little tighter. If the Swan attacked, maybe she could defend herself? 

"Or maybe…" Tuuri continued. "... you could carry over more than one soul at a time, and give them a comfortable journey at that? It's been a while, but I remember my wings ached getting here!" 

The Swan scoffed, but Tuuri had kept her best argument for the last. "My dear Miss Swan, I have the best news for you! I see you're not convinced, but let me just show you this killer part of the deal. Now, I know you're a bureaucrat, and busy as they come - believe me, I've been there with the bureaucracy, it's ludicrous what they make you go through, isn't that right?" Tuuri threw her arm around the Swan's neck in a companionable way - or at least she hoped it appeared like that - and steered her toward the cat-tank's door, inside toward the bunk room. 

She hoped the quick tidying job she'd done was enough; it'd mostly consisted stuffing all the random crap that'd accumulated and somehow come to Tuonela along the tank under the beds. "You see… cozy, isn't it? Perfect for nesting, lived-in, parts of the floor are all new! It'll feel like home right away! But the best thing - the best thing - aren't you tired of er… hand-writing... your paperwork? It's your lucky day! From now on you'll be be able to… _wing_ it!" 

Tuuri rolled open the door to the office with a flourish. "Ta-daaa! Your very own home-tank-van office, typewriter and all, and it all comes included in your warranty, as a free gift along the car itself! Can you say no to th-" 

The Swan honked, and honked again, a drawn-out note almost like the blare of a car horn that made Tuuri want to cover her ears. She beat her wings and bobbed her head, waddling forward past Tuuri at a run, and honked a third time. 

Then she turned back around, and Tuuri no longer had any doubt that she looked sheepish, even as she craned her neck to rub her head against the typewriter. 

"I'll take it!" the Swan said. "If you can forgive instinct taking over for a moment." 

Tuuri tried her best to keep a straight face. "Oh, believe me, I've seen weirder things!" 

She hadn't, not really, but that was beside the point.

She unrolled the papers in her hand. "I've taken the liberty of getting the contract in order and ready, valid for eternity, unbreakable, all the standards that you'd expect from a quality deal. If you'll just sign here and here… and here," she said, spreading the papers out on the floor, and handing the Swan a pen that she held in her webbed foot with difficulty. "You see," said the Swan, balancing precariously to hit the dotted line but not looking at the typed text, Tuuri noticed with relief, "why I got excited. These are the conditions I usually work in." 

"I see that, ma'am, I see that clear as day. It's a right disgrace! Well count yourself lucky, your days - ah, what am I saying - millennia! - of misery are over!" She waited with bated breath until all the papers bore an illegible scrawl, gathered them up, and bowed. 

"I'll leave you to enjoy your new acquisition, ma'am! That's all I came here for, so have a good day!" 

As Tuuri exited the tank and set off at a run, she could hear the Swan calling again; it reminded her of a day spent bird-watching on the island in Joutenvesi with Grandma, Onni and Lalli, and the same call echoing far over the water. 

"Mating calls," said Grandma. "Whooper swans pair for life; she's looking for her other half." 

On her way to the ferry to take her across the river and back into the world of the living, Tuuri couldn't help but smile. 

*

"I have her signature right here! These are my release papers; I can go home! You _have to_ take me over, I don't care the Swan said there was a disturbance on the other shore," Tuuri waved the paper with the Swan's signature in the Ferry Girl's face until she took a step back and let Tuuri onto the raft. 

It took a while to cross the river. As they did, she could see a bunch of people on the other shore - vaguely familiar and looking strangely substantial among the shades waiting for the ferry: Two tall redheads, a bulky blond form, someone with hair so perfect it sparkled, and a short, slight, stick-thin figure. One of the redheads hollered and waved. 

Disturbance seemed a good way to put her welcoming committee. 

How Sigrun recognized Tuuri she couldn't even guess, but she waved back with a warm flutter in her stomach. Not long now; the shore crept steadily closer, and when she stepped off the raft, they all rushed forward at once to surround her. 

A beat passed, then they all started talking simultaneously. 

"Fuzzy-head! How in Hel did you -"  
"I helped bring them -"  
"It is good to see -"  
"We came to find -"  
"Tuuri."

Another beat passed. All five of them quieted. Then Emil wordlessly pointed at her with an expression akin to horror distorting his grin. 

"What are you _wearing_?!"

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some [mating Whooper Swans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWucYDZ3JNQ).


End file.
